Diary of an Ugly Duckling Langhorne, Karyn (reading rainbow books txt) 📖

ruining—had ruined—her life. She was

the original ugly girl . . . ugly enough to give lessons

in it.

Pretty Up, the words echoed in her brain, pulsing

toward a moment of decision. Pretty Up . . . but not

just with a new outfit, and some over-the-counter

beauty consultant comestics. But Pretty Way Up, dra-

matically, drastically, permanently.

Because her mother and Penny Bradshaw weren’t

wrong. For all the platitudes the ugly girls of the

world were asked to live with, accept, embody, the

girl wasn’t wrong. It didn’t matter how smart you

were, how funny, how great a person—the package

was the deciding factor when it came to the opposite

sex, and even this child’s own father, who for just a

second, Audra had thought might be just a little dif-

ferent, had turned out to be a full-fledged member

of the club.

Her own father was certainly a member, too—if

that’s who the man who had raised her until she

was nine really was.

The gauzy, hazy light from another dawn filled

the bedroom. The last of Beautify! Network’s make-

overs surrendered to fresh programming focusing

on home décor, and Audra flipped the channels list-

lessly. In another couple of hours, the apartment

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81

would come to life, and her mother would bustle out

of the door for sixteen hours at the salon, pretending

once again that nothing was wrong between them—

nothing except that Audra needed to Pretty Up!

Kiana would need care. There would be things to

clean, errands to run . . . Audra saw her life stretch

hopelessly out in front of her: predictable and safe

and entirely alone.

Ugly Duckling . . .

The commercial raced around her brain, its pitch

resonating in her mind. What would it be like to be

totally transformed, to see yourself remade, not just

in new clothes and fresh makeup—how many times

had she tried that, only to be disappointed—but re-

shaped from the bones outward? What would it be

like to look in the mirror and find, not fat, black and

ugly, but something lovely and desirable. What did

it feel like to glance in the mirror and find a reflec-

tion like a movie star’s, like Esmeralda Prince’s, like

Petra’s? Could it be as close as a telephone call? As

close as 1-888 UGLY DUCK . . .

But I can’t do that. I couldn’t possibly call some reality

television show, Audra thought, flipping down the

dial toward Classic Movies Channel. I couldn’t possi-

bly call . . .

Why not? another voice in her brain answered.

Nothing else has worked.

I don’t have time. The deadline is Monday—

And you’re off, the other voice in her head re-

minded her. You’re on administrative leave, indefi-

nitely, thanks to Princeton Haines, remember?

I don’t have a camera—

But at the same instant she remembered something

82

Karyn Langhorne

Darlene Fuchs had said, drunk as a skunk at that re-

tirement party. Something about a place in Green-

wich Village. A place where they help actors make

audition tapes . . .

I couldn’t, Audra told the voice again. I’m no actor—

Fine then, the insistent voice challenged. Do noth-

ing. Let your perfect guy date some boring, selfish

woman just because of her outside packaging. Sure, you

could change your own package and find happiness . . .

but no. You can’t. You won’t . . .

And again she saw the look on Art Bradshaw’s

handsome face as his eyes followed Esmeralda

Prince into the ladies’ room and beyond. He’d never

looked at Audra like that . . . In fact, when she really

thought about it, he’d never looked at her much at

all if he could help it.

Not mine . . . Ain’t no way I could have a child as black

and ugly as that . . .

Maybe . . .

This is madness, Audra told herself firmly, shaking

the idea and the insistent, challenging voice egging

her onward from her mind and focusing on the TV

instead. A movie was starting as Audra resettled

herself under her comforter with a deepening sense

of depression. Bette Davis was in the movie, and

Paul Henreid . . . and as the credits faded into the

opening scene, Audra knew exactly what she was

watching.

Even the movies seemed to be sanctioning her

course.

Now, Voyager. The ultimate forties makeover film.

Bette Davis played an ugly spinster, stuck and sti-

fled by her domineering mother, who, after a nervous

DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING

83

breakdown, completely remakes herself and finds

love with a married man on an ocean voyage. She

returns home, stares down her mother and—

Audra watched, transfixed. It was as if Bette were

speaking to her . . . telling her what to do . . .

They probably won’t pick you anyway . . . Why not at

least find out? It couldn’t hurt to find out . . .

By the time the newly glamorous Bette Davis

challenged her strict mother’s control and vowed to

wait, forever if necessary, for the man she loved,

Audra had the phone in her hand.

It couldn’t hurt to find out . . .

“Welcome to the Ugly Duckling,” a smooth,

recorded voice said. “To be considered for a spot as

a contestant on our show—”

Audra snatched a pencil from the drawer in her

bedside table, ripped a clean sheet of paper from a

notepad beside it and began to write.

Tuesday, April 3

Petra,

I’ve done something . . . It’s probably crazy but I didn’t

know what else to do. It’s a long shot, but with all the

movies I’ve watched, I know a little about how to tell a

story.

I told them my story, Petra—at least as much of it as

I know. I didn’t leave out anything—not Ma or Dad or

the stuff I heard. I only had a day to work on it. While

Kiana was at school